Tabletop Conversations
by Dante Tigerwolf
Summary: Set in Misfitverse. Series of oneshots between the Misfits and the G.I. Joe handlers, in which the talk through whatever the Misfit in question is feeling.
1. Pyro and Covergirl

b Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution, the concept for the Misfits or any sort copyright for the characters used in this story. Thank you for your indulgence. On a different note, I'm back to fanfiction after over a year of procrastination. If any fans of my old stories still wish to know how they would have turned out, or where they were going, please let me know and I'll tell you. I just really want to get back into the Misfit Club. /b 

Pyro was, in short, depressed. Not truly confused, angry, lovelorn or even ponderous, though any of these would have done sufficiently well, but he was quite simply depressed. He sat hunched at the Manor kitchen table, his hands behind his head. He cut a figure quite unlike his usual, maniacal self as he stared, contemplating the silver lighter that sat in front of him on the table. It was unnaturally quiet in the Misfit Manor as the rest of the Misfits and all but two handlers had left to cause chaos at the X Mansion.

Pyro had stared at the lighter solemnly, not moving. For no apparent reason, he reached, took the lighter, lit it and leaned back sighing. He reached out his mental 'fingers' and began to mold the flame. It grew larger and billowed in an unfelt breeze. As it grew, it twisted and spiraled in a statue, in the form of a young woman, detailed wings stretching from her back. The figure started to come to life, its long skirt billowing, and its feathers ruffling. It leaned forward and began to extend a hand to caress his cheek.

"Pyro!" Covergirl let out a cry as she stood wearing a short bathrobe, her eyes wide. Pyro's head snapped in her direction, and the fiery angel was almost instantly snuffed out.

"Sorry, Sheila." Covergirl lifted an eyebrow at this statement. It was uncharacteristically downtrodden for the fire mutant.

"John, we both know that you're not feeling well. Do you wanna take about it?" Covergirl pulled up a chair and put her hand on his leg in what she hoped was a comforting manner; talking to Angelica and Lina was much easier than this.

"Not with you particularly, I'm sorry. I just don't think you'd have any experience in this subject." John lowered his head into his hands over the table. Having a suspicion as to what was going on, Covergirl still felt rather indignant at being so easily put off.

"And why can't I help you?" She inquired crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. Pyro eyed her with slight disdain and anger.

"You, Sheila, are a former supermodel. Doubtless, what you wanted is what you got. Unrequited love, therefore, must mean someone simply wanting you for your body and not you mind. And after drawing this conclusion it can be naturally ascertained that you have no experience in this area."

Covergirl blinked, temporarily bemused.

"'Ascertained'?"

"When I can't sleep, I get Freddy to read me big words from the dictionary." Pyro grinned, a glimpsed of the happy-go-lucky mutant's unsubdued personality.

"Moving on, I'll have you know I've had my share of unrequited love. Come on, Pyro, talk to me kid. This is why I'm here. To help you." Covergirl said with all the sincerity that she felt. Pyro looked up from the table at her with trusting eyes.

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?" He asked, sounding utterly defeated. Now having a very developed idea of where the conversation was going, Covergirl nodded. "Well, continuing in the vein of unrequited love, I don't suppose you where ever really unsure of where the feelings came from?"

"No, mostly those feeling were based on lust." Covergirl admitted.

"Describe said feelings." Pyro half requested, half commanded.

"This is not a sordid account of my past loves, thank you," Covergirl blushed. "We're talking about you. Describe yours."

"Fine." Pyro grunted non-commitally. "They're… confusing at best. I really don't want them. Part of me wants to act on them."

"Why don't you want them?" Covergirl questioned.

"Well, they're weird for one. And they get in the way of people I don't feeling like screwing over."

"Why do want to act on them?"

"Like you said, lust. Basically, it's pure instinct, isn't it? But it's wrong."

"It's not wrong Pyro. It's who you are. And take a moment to remember that there are more fish in the sea." Covergirl, encouraged by Pyro's nodding, was on a roll. "There will be other boys that will-…"

"Wait a second!" Pyro interrupted her, looking confused and indignant. "I'm not gay. Didn't you see the size of those knockers on that angel?"

"Isn't this a 'coming out' conversation? The likeness is impeccable." Covergirl argued, looking equally confused. "The whole unexplained feelings thing, 'it feels wrong?' This is very much-…"

"Jean. Jean bloody Grey. I am straight and Jean has set my burning loins a light." Pyro interrupted irritably.

"I think I understood the gay thing more. Why is it that you're only attracted to fire chicks, and all of a sudden Jean? …Oh. Right."

"Yes. She is an angel, born from the ashes of a dead star and shines with the ironic beauty that has only been truly seen by the sunblind man." Pyro waxed poetically, as Covergirl stared.

"…I keep forgetting. You write Gothic Romance and Jean has the Phoenix force." Covergirl droned, feeling emotionally exhausted. "And, by the way, do you honestly expect me to look at the cup size of flaming statue when I'm convinced that the person who conjured to up is about to commit suicide." She said, regaining some energy.

"Sheila, don't you think I'd be immune to my own powers?" It was Pyro's turn to raise a questionary eyebrow. It only lasted a second before his face split into a smug grin. Covergirl glared at him.

"And just like that you're better?"

"Sure as shooting, Sheila. You don't think a little thing like this could get me down for long? Besides, I'm a nice guy. We really can't have falling for me because she thinks she has a chance, can we now?"

"I'm surprised that you haven't drowned in arrogance yet." Cover replied, deadpan.

"I get that a lot, Sheila." Pyro smiled. "I think I'll go to the X Mansion now." With that, he teleported away.

"…" For a few seconds, Covergirl said nothing. "I want a drink…"


	2. Angelica and Shipwreck

A sigh groaned its way from between Angelica's vocal cords and spilled over into the evening air. She stared at the vast array of hues that sharply contrasted with her bleak mood. She shifted her weight backwards and hugged her knees to her chest. She turned her head towards her to her companion, Shipwreck; he was trying, and subsequently failing, to drink gin straight from the bottle without her noticing.

"Have you ever felt guilty about things beyond your control?" She asked abruptly. Reluctantly setting the bottle beside him. Shipwreck reluctantly threw himself into the conversation.

"My wife left me, three of my daughters are clinically insane and my son will probably never be able to act in a normal society. It's a valid possibility." Shipwreck couldn't help sounding extremely snide in this observation. Angelica bit her lip.   
"Maybe I said that wrong."

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't try to make things about me. In this instance, you are the important."

"That doesn't sound like you." Angelica lifted her eyebrow at Shipwreck. He smirked.

"Thanks. It's nice having a shrink who doesn't mind when you steal his lines." Angelica giggled at this.

"I'm glad I'm talking to you."

"Kid, you're quite possibly the first person to say that to me in over three years." This let the conversation temporarily dissolve into comfortable silence. They sat on the roof, staring into the sunset. Insects buzzed in the trees and night birds began to come out. Angelica quietly shifted closer to Shipwreck. A few seconds passed.

"About the feeling guilty thing…"

"Yeah?"

"When I first got here, Psychout made the girls have a group therapy. Wanda started and she just kept yammering on about being rejected by her father. I didn't know it was Magneto then. Yeah, he had attacked me. But, remember I was busy being rescued by Lance."

"How could I forget the look on Kitty's face? Like Mara's when she found out she was going to have triplets." Shipwreck interrupted. He quickly looked sheepish. "But, your story."

"Thank you. Anyway she keep talking and talking. Yes, it was awful. But she wouldn't stop. And you know what I keep thinking." Here she laughed nervously and ran her fingers threw her hair. It fell around back against her head, look lighter and slightly frenzied matching her mood. "What just kept going through my head was 'get over yourself,' 'bitch please,' and 'don't steal my thunder.' Stuff like that. She just seemed to so well adjusted and mostly in control. I know it's just a mask, but it's a damn convincing one. I, in comparison, was expectedly unstable. Lina tried to commit suicide, true, but we weren't hurting the same. I just felt… I don't know, threatened." The last bit came out rushed. Shipwreck nodded an understanding and practiced nod.

"We're only human. We like pain, don't we? It makes us special." Angelica let out a long, trembling sigh. She leaned on his shoulder, and Shipwreck stroked her hair in a fatherly manner. He found himself half reminiscing, half lost in thought. How many times had done this with his daughters, or even Wanda? They stayed like this for several minutes. The sun was more than halfway under the horizon when they spoke again.

"Something seems off." Angelica murmured.

"And you can't you put your finger on it, am I right?"

"Mm."

"Could it be that I'm this good at this?" Shipwreck smirked. Angelica lifted her head to look at him.

"Maybe." Shipwreck laughed at this.

"Come on, kid. Give me some credit. I am a father. I do stuff like this every once in a while."  
"You have a point. But there's still something…" She sighed heavily. The first moths of night were out now. Angelica let her eyes follow them for a few seconds. And then it came to her. She jerked violently, her eyes open wide. A shocked look on her face, she jabbed an accusatory finger in Shipwreck's direction. "You watch 'Starting Over!'"

"What?" Shipwreck shouted. Silence entreated upon them before Angelica burst into a fit of giggles.

"Thank you. Now I really do feel better." Still giggling, Angelica graceful moved to edge of the roof and equally gracefully swung over the ledge into the open kitchen window. Shipwreck winced as the sound of cookery falling, and subsequently breaking, rang from below. Violent cursing and a rather dazed 'Ow…' ensued.

The next day

Psychout had just bid farewell to a rather angry Bazooka and was cleaning the office for his next 'appointment' (Wild Bill, incidentally) when a petulantly loud knocking came from the other side of his door. Putting his best face forward, he opened the door. On the other side stood a murderous looking Shipwreck.

"I know where you're getting my therapy." He growled. Grabbing the psychologist's collar, he stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.


End file.
